GOODBYE MR GREY. It’s not me. It’s you.
I’m on page 195 of “Fifty Shades Of Grey”. ( yes. I’m behind that way.)
I’ve sensed a vague irritation ” inside the deepest, darkest place of me ” building up since about page 105. To quote leading lady Anastasia Steele:
and another one :
And one more :
Her of the “breathtakingly on turning pig tails and “unworldly innocent” virginity who made it to the age of 24 without ever kissing a man. Despite the fact that she is a” beautiful natural brunette” with perfect skin and the ability to absent-mindedly chew her lower lip in such a way that Christian Grey wants to eat her. Alive. After he has smacked her pert little behind for being such a naughty girl.
The truth is, “Fifty Shades” just doesn’t do it for me.
Maybe it’s the repetition of certain phrases.
“His pants are hanging off his hips in THAT way. I can see that he works out. “( what way might this be? Anyone? )
“Eat your dinner!”
“My hips start tilting.”
And last but not least there’s the widening and narrowing and darkening of the eyes.
“His eyes widen momentarily.”
“His eyes narrow momentarily.”
“His eyes darken MOMENTARILY.”
Maybe it’s my strict Calvinistic upbringing. 16 Years of attending Sunday School.
Maybe it’s being interrupted constantly. It’s hard to concentrate on the
climax literary build up of a scene when in between “he applies the nipple clamps” and “My hips start tilting” I have to control, bath and feed two children under the age of five.
Maybe it’s the sheer deliberately chosen brainlessness of the woman.
So I’m sorry Mr Grey, SIR. I’m just not that into you.
It’s not me.